


Bulletproof

by Neither_Nor



Category: Gundam SEED
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cosmic Era, Gen, Le Creuset Team, Tertiary Character Appreciation, Traumatic Injury, ZAFT
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24560944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neither_Nor/pseuds/Neither_Nor
Summary: Presumed dead after a gunshot wound to the head during the siege of Heliopolis, the fifth member of Rau Le Creuset's elite team is left behind amidst the rubble and debris of battle.As his comrades race off with their stolen mobile suits and on to future battles, Rusty faces his own battles for survival and, perhaps one day, recovery.
Kudos: 2





	Bulletproof

_[[Based on the events of Gundam SEED RE: and originally written for a[Rusty Mackenzie RP blog](https://rustymackenzie.tumblr.com/) ]]_

* * *

_All their training had led to this, their first mission, their first opportunity to prove themselves worthy of the elite status boldly declared by their red uniforms. But as Rusty looked down on the colony in its final moments of oblivious peace, a feeling of pity clouded his confidence. The innocent people of Heliopolis were about to have a very bad day. But the colony could no longer plead neutrality while producing prototype mobile suits that might threaten ZAFT’s technological dominance, and ZAFT could not just turn a blind eye to such duplicity._

_Commander Le Creuset was right about having to take action now, while they still had the chance. Rusty glanced over at his teammates—Yzak and Dearka itching for action, Athrun still visibly tense, Nicol staring intently ahead and probably going over the plan for the millionth time—and cracked a half-smile._

_The convoy they had been waiting for finally appeared, trudging heavily along the road below them. With the position of their quarry established, Miguel and his unit of GINNs rushed to their location, sweeping across the interior of the colony and strafing the convoy with heavy fire to disable it._

_Moving on to the next phase, the Le Creuset Team and their support squads descended into the smoking battlefield. Rusty let the mission fill his mind and endless hours of training lead the motions. There was no room to wonder at how easy the submachine gun felt in his hands or how readily he fired on live targets for the first time._

_As it became clear that only three of the purported five prototype machines were present, Rusty joined Athrun in checking the factory for the remaining two while the rest of the team forged ahead. It was a deviation from the plan, but running into the unknown only heightened the thrill of danger._

_The final two mobile suits were just ahead, lying prone in their transports._

_Rusty spared a quick look over at Athrun, who had fallen slightly behind. “You okay, Athru—”_

The world went white. A buzzing filled his head with itchy, pulsing static and somewhere in the distance was a sensation of falling, the pull of gravity. Warm waves of static drowned the scrape and thunder of battle, leaving him alone as he attempted to blink away the white shroud. He knew he had arms, but he couldn’t feel where they were or make them move. He knew he had legs, but they too were lost in the white world.

There was no pain—only the skittering scratching that filled his head. Time seemed to both slow to a crawl and snap forward in the snowstorm.

Where was Athrun? He told his lips to move and call for help, but as they finally trembled open a rush of warm metal filled his mouth, coating his teeth, falling over his tongue and down his throat. He gagged against it, his body finally jerking to life and fighting for air.

The battlefield around him had fallen silent, leaving his wet coughs as the only human sound amidst the remains of upturned vehicles, smoking debris, and broken bodies. Choking against the hot blood awakened a searing pain that bloomed across his face, enveloping his skull and radiating down his shoulders. A few pinpricks reached his fingertips and he managed to twitch his hands in response. The pain brought his thoughts into greater focus against the buzzing in his head. He knew that adrenaline was still softening the full impact of… whatever had happened, so if he was going to have the strength to do something it had to be now.

There was no choice but to continue to the rendezvous point. To his surprise, one numb arm responded weakly, and he strained against the heaviness of the white world and the static to lift himself up on one elbow. As he went to grit his teeth against the effort, the movement seemed to ignite every nerve from the roots of his teeth to the top of his skull in a wave of electricity, sending him back to the ground with a cry. The bounce of his head inside the helmet sent sparks before his eyes, but as they faded sight began to return to his left eye, though still clouded and milky.

A shadow suddenly fell over his view, blurry at first then sharpening into the face of a man as it drew closer. With what he knew was a final spike of adrenaline, Rusty grasped for the knife strapped to his thigh and raised it shakily before his chest, ready to defend himself against this final enemy. Their mouth was moving but he couldn’t hear the words. Not that it mattered; if he was going to die then he’d take one more with him. Suddenly, hands were prying the knife away. He wanted to scream in frustration but all that emerged was a rasping gurgle.

The man was twisting away his helmet now. This was it—he was going to give the death blow. There was no fear, no regret here in this final moment. Only a mindless rage against the inevitable end as he forced the last of his strength into his thrashing limbs. Hot tears ran across his face, mingling with the blood that stained his skin and pooled in his helmet. He wanted to go home, to sit in the mess hall joking with friends, to visit his favourite places one more time. This couldn’t be the end.

His body went limp.

The man let out a strangled sound and threw the broken helmet aside. He quickly pulled off his suit jacket, folded it, and gently lifted Rusty’s head enough to slide part of the padding under it. He pulled the rest across the side of Rusty’s head and over the bullet wound still pulsing with dark blood above his right brow.

“Come on, kid,” he said urgently, giving Rusty’s check a few gentle slaps. “You’re strong enough to get out of this alive. I can’t carry you and put pressure on your head at the same time. You’re gonna have to help. Come on!”

With one hand still putting pressure on the wound, the other began unlatching Rusty’s vest and removing the pouches strapped about his waist, discarding as much weight as he could.

“We’re Coordinators, right? We have to stick together. So stick with me and we’ll get out of here, okay!” The man encouraged. “It’s just a little way to those evac shuttles. I think with everything going on in this sector nobody used those. Come on….” His tone turned desperate. “Don’t make me leave you.”

The sound of a voice filtered through the static, drawing Rusty back into his body and its pain. He cracked his eyes open. The right was still covered in blinding white, while in the left it was reduced to a milky haze.

“Come on, hold this,” the man said while guiding one of Rusty’s hands up to the jacket pressed against his head.

Rusty tried to squint up at him. It sounded like he was at the far end of a tunnel.

“We don’t have time to go slow. I’m gonna help you up now so just try to stay with me, okay?”

The man was talking again. So many words. Their sounds and meanings felt slippery and hard to catch.

The man hauled Rusty up so he was sitting upright, then he slipped one arm around his back while the other stabilised his chest and heaved them both to their feet with a strained grunt. They swayed as the man took nearly all the weight.

“Now we walk,” he commanded.

They staggered across the street until the way was cut off by a transport truck that had fallen on its side, its metal bulk blocking the row of elevators down to the evac shelters. The man gently set Rusty down next to the truck and went to look for another way in.

Time stretched and strained in all directions while the blurry man was away. Rusty swayed from the past—sitting in a garden arguing with childhood friends, the day he arrived at the Academy, final hugs at the spaceport before leaving for the mission—to some bright future he never realised was so fragile.

“Found it,” the man announced as he came jogging back. He hoisted Rusty up again and led him around the cabin of the truck to where one of the elevators was just barely accessible. The light above it glowed a welcoming green. The man gently leaned Rusty onto the open platform, though he immediately sagged towards the floor.

“If there’s anyone else in there, don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. I have to send you down first, so just hang tight for a second, okay?” He didn’t wait for any kind of response before sending the elevator down.

It opened into a shelter lined with empty seats and a control console glowing idly at one end. Rusty staggered out of the elevator and into a seat, eyes squeezed shut and breaths coming shallow and quick. 

The man lowered himself into the shuttle a moment later. He went to the central console and began typing. “I’ll signal this shelter as full.”

An edge of annoyance crept into his voice as he continued to type rapidly. “Then I guess I’ll have to code it to transmit to any nearby ZAFT vessels for recovery. There’s bound to be _some_ around, if the disaster upstairs is any indication.” He hit a final keystroke with frustrated emphasis.

“I know it’s not your fault,” he said as he moved over to Rusty to properly position him in the seat and help put pressure on his head. “I guess you guys were here to steal those new mobile suits, huh?” He let out a frustrated sigh. “You know, you’re supposed to get the agents out of dodge before acting on their intel, right? I just sent those pictures and was assured that I’d be extracted _before_ the situation got hot. Do the top brass even know about this? Christ, the state of Heliopolis… Not to mention the state of us now!”

He pulled a shirtsleeve down over his hand and used it to gently dab at the blood drying on Rusty’s face. “You know, I’ve got a son a little younger than you. He’s just itching to join the fight but I won’t let him. It’s selfish, I admit it. But that’s why I couldn’t just leave you there—I know I passed some others, but you were the only one showing any signs of life. You’re a fighter.”

“Now you’ve just gotta listen to my voice, focus on the words. Keep listening to it. Stay with me until we’re out of here.”

Red emergency lights began to flash.

 _“Compulsory evacuation orders are now in effect,”_ an automated voice announced.

“Time to go.” The man checked Rusty’s safety harness before fastening his own. “Here’s hoping I didn’t screw up the codes. Now before you know it we’ll be back home.”

The blurry man kept making noises at him, their meanings lost in the static that still scratched at the inside of his skull. But as the shelter shuddered down the evac chute, out into space and hopefully towards a friendly rescue, the word ‘home’ ghosted across Rusty’s numb lips. He couldn’t remember what it meant, but it was a comforting sound as he slipped away.


End file.
